


float upstream

by teaspoonery (quodpersortem)



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, First Time, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/teaspoonery
Summary: (livejournal re-post fromhere; mine)rating: rword count: 940the strings were tied back together where they broke, the music quiet and ever so slightly off-key, just like his singingdate: 2010-07-19





	float upstream

It’s incredible.  
  
It’s unbelievable and it’s fantastic, it’s spectacularly harsh sometimes and yet so, so tender at other moments. It’s secret but it’s in the open, it’s so good it’s fantastic while it’s strange and awkward and-  
  
it’s incredible.  
  
  
  
But before it became incredible, it had to start. There had to be a beginning, something to point at and tell one  _that, there, in that very moment it happened_.   
  
It wasn’t like that, not between the two of them. It didn’t happen, it didn’t grow, it just  _was_  at some point between one island and another, between sunrise and sundown, in the space between Haldane’s body and the bullet that missed him.  
  
  
  
Hillbilly sat in his tent, empty, with a battered and scratched and weather-weary guitar he dug up from somewhere, not even his own but enough to satisfy his needs. The strings were tied back together where they broke, the music quiet and ever so slightly off-key, just like his singing. The men jokingly called him a wandering minstrel, pushed elbows in his ribcage, not knowing that yes, yes, that was exactly how he felt.  
  
Haldane entered, kneeled down in front of him onto the soggy ground. He gently pried the guitar from Hillbilly’s sore fingers, out of practice, placed his hands on his knees. His watch shimmered, reflected the light of the candle.  
  
And then they kissed. It felt like something between a C-minor and G chord, between a strum and a pluck and a stray word, a shout faraway. It was under the cover of darkness and an otherwise empty tent, one cot and one blanket. The kiss itself was soft, somehow expected, and lasted a short eternity. Cracked lips against cracked lips, tentative tongue darting out, pressing, pulling, pushing. There was a dry sob, an empty gasp, Haldane’s hand on his cheek and - after the strings boomed once more, the guitar drumming a sound through the space as it fell over -his own on Haldane’s neck.  
  
And God, what a night, what a night it was. After the kiss there was the gentle touch of a hand over a heart, pressure building inside and the kisses more intense, deeper, deeper, on the bed and later on the hard floor, a sharp contrast to their bodies even if their bodies were both male and made of bones and planes of muscle. It had Haldane on hands and knees with Jones behind him, fingers tracing the outlines of muscle, trailing up and further up until they reached  _right there_. He pushed one finger gently into Ack Ack, and it felt dry and was no doubt feeling sore for the other man so he’d kissed him, thumbs on either side to keep enough space to probe his tongue in, further in, until Ack Ack was groaning and bucking his hips and dripping precome unto the floor.  
  
They never got around to actual fucking, never got around to do anything beside calm smooth touches and kisses and coming over the black earth they lay on, made love on. There were smears of the soil on their skin afterwards, black streaks that reeked of the putrid plants it was composed of, of the rain that thundered down onto it, was soaked up by it, until shortly before the tents were put up.  
  
Instead they slept, they slept in the filth on the floor and curled in on each other, they slept soundly and quietly and the rain and thunder roared above them, the trees bludgeoned tents somewhere else with a crash and a bang, they woke up and kissed again because it felt like the natural thing to do. They hoisted up their naked bodies, pained and bruised from fighting and loving, got dressed with the soil still clinging to their bare skin.   
  
And just like that, they  _were_.   
  
  
  
Now they’re a month, three weeks and five days later. Now they’re gallons of rain and mud streams later, thousands of bullets and hundreds of deaths. Now they’re not even halfway along the, seemingly endless, gigantic maelstrom of fears and frights the islands bring with them.   
  
But no matter how long ago that first day together seems, it’s stronger beyond anything else either of them feels on the islands. Than the fear, than the hope, than the worrying for the men they’ve to lead into battle – and right out of it again.  
  
  
  
And it’s still unbelievable, still fantastic, a month, three weeks and five days later. It’s spectacularly harsh when Haldane pushes Hillbilly onto his back, his teeth biting and kisses bruising, when Hillbilly pushes himself into Ack Ack with only the aid of sperm and spit, with the black soggy oily floor they lay on. It’s so, so tender still when Hillbilly gently kisses Ack Ack afterwards, then they embrace and just press their lips together, share body heat – not out of necessity but out of want. It’s secret for the men aren’t allowed to know, but yet it’s in the open because people _do_  notice, and the skies  _are_  visible.   
  
It’s fantastic, this thing they share, it’s strange because they are two men, which is also what makes it awkward at times, when they fumble and are unsure of what to do with their bodies, to their bodies and-  
  
yes. It is definitely incredible.  
  
  
  
And it is going to remain incredible, until the days come that will never be for them, never theirs. The days where they  _aren't_  anymore. Those days will be where the rain stops to fall and the bullets are going to quit killing. Where the men will stop drowning in their own blood, choking and gasping and finally closing their eyes, bodies stilling, still on that black putrid forest floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic officially contains one of my personal favourite lines I have ever written. Can you guess which it is? :)


End file.
